


Do What We Can

by poor_guys_headisspinning



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, mentions of vomiting, oops i projected again, soft!sprace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 11:59:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11312940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poor_guys_headisspinning/pseuds/poor_guys_headisspinning
Summary: Race was alone again.He didn't know what was wrong.He closed his eyes and tried to stop thinking. He couldn't stop thinking. Thinking was dangerous. If he thought too much he might end up hurting himself. He didn't think he was able to hurt himself. That meant he'd have to care enough to self loathe. He thought about a lot of things. He didn't feel anything. He was numb. The nausea was still there, but it was distant. As long as he didn't move it didn't matter.He kept sitting there. The blanket was on his lap, his phone was in his hand, he couldn't feel anything. He sat. He didn't know what was wrong.





	Do What We Can

**Author's Note:**

> I started summer school today and idk it put me in a Mood so I projected onto Race  
> title is from Time Quartet (Tuck Everlasting)  
> I love Imnotweirdjustwriting? She didn't even do much with this fic except validate me once I finished but you should still read all of her stuff it's incredible

Race sat silently in the car, not really looking at anything. He was listening to his mom speak, but her words didn't really mean anything. He didn't know what was wrong. "Make sure you eat when you get home, there's lots of leftovers!"  _ The nausea won't stop and eating will make it worse. _ "I want you to clean your room, at least a little bit."  _ I can't move to do that. _ "You don't have to, but I'd love it if you did the dishes."  _ I might pass out if I stand for that long. _

Each request was met with a quiet "okay." He couldn't bring himself to say more. He just wanted to go home so he could be alone. His mom kept talking, about the weather, about her day at work so far, about things Race couldn't focus on.  _ Almost home. _

He wanted to sleep when he got home. He didn't think he could. He didn't know what was wrong. Maybe lying on the couch not moving would make him feel something again. It couldn't make it worse, right? He felt a familiar pang of hunger, but the nausea was getting worse and he knew eating was a bad idea.

The car pulled into the driveway and Race grabbed his backpack and house key. He unbuckled and opened the door, getting out quickly and trying to ignore how dizzy he felt standing up. He shut the car door and walked to the front door.

"Tony! Aren't you going to say goodbye?" His mother asked when he passed the driver's side of the car. He stopped and turned around, not wanting her to be unhappy. He didn't want to talk. He needed to talk.

"Bye, Mama. Have a nice day at work."

She smiled at him and started backing up, waiting until he was in the house to leave completely.

Race took in a shaky breath once he was alone. He didn't know what was wrong. He kicked off his shoes and walked to his bedroom. He dropped his backpack in the doorway and stepped over it to go in. He took off his jeans and changed into sweatpants, then grabbed a soft blanket off his bed and left the room.

He went into the living room, but paused before he reached the couch. He really was hungry. Maybe food would make the nausea go away? He turned and entered the kitchen. He looked at the counter and his stomach protested the idea of putting any of the food there in him. He opened the fridge. An intense wave of nausea hit him. Okay. Eating was bad. He closed the fridge and went back to the couch. He stood in front of it while he wrapped his blanket around his shoulders, swaying slightly. He didn't know what was wrong. He tried to lie down. He almost threw up.  _ Okay, I guess I'm sitting. _

He didn't know what to do. He couldn't get up to turn on the TV. He didn't think he wanted to watch TV. He still had his phone, maybe he could watch YouTube. That didn't require any effort.

He opened the app and looked through his subscriptions to find a video to watch. He kept seeing ones that sounded interesting, but he couldn't make himself click on them. He didn't know what was wrong. He kept scrolling. Maybe something would come up that he would want to watch. He scrolled until he couldn't scroll anymore.

Why wasn't anything working?

He wanted to scream. He didn't want to open his mouth. He couldn't do anything.

He sat there. He didn't know how long. He didn't know what was wrong. He heard the door open.  _ Shit. _ He'd forgotten that Romeo got off work early. He considered moving so he wouldn't have to talk to his brother. He didn't think he could move.

"'Sup, Race?" Romeo asked, stopping in the doorway and looking at him. "How was your day?"

Race didn't look at him.  _ Open your mouth. Talk to him. He'll be worried if you don't. It's not that hard. _ He opened his mouth. "Boring."

Romeo joked, "What, school isn't fun?" Race didn't laugh. He tried for a weak smile. He didn't know what was wrong. Romeo didn't comment on it. "Work was boring too. Slow day, ya know?"

Race nodded, unable to open his mouth again. Romeo left. He went to his bedroom. Race was alone again.

He didn't know what was wrong.

He closed his eyes and tried to stop thinking. He couldn't stop thinking. Thinking was dangerous. If he thought too much he might end up hurting himself. He didn't think he was able to hurt himself. That meant he'd have to care enough to self loathe. He thought about a lot of things. He didn't feel anything. He was numb. The nausea was still there, but it was distant. As long as he didn't move it didn't matter.

He kept sitting there. The blanket was on his lap, his phone was in his hand, he couldn't feel anything. He sat. He didn't know what was wrong.

Time passed. He couldn't bring himself to care. He kept his eyes closed and tried to ignore everything. It almost worked.

The front door opened again. He opened his eyes. Who would be at his house? Romeo was already home and their mom wouldn't finish work for another several hours.  _ Calm down. You're fine. It's probably just Specs or something. You don't need to move. _ He closed his eyes again.

"Race?" Spot was here. Why was Spot here? He didn't want to deal with Spot. He couldn't deal with Spot. His boyfriend. His boyfriend who had come to see him.  _ Don't be ungrateful, asshole. At least pretend for him. _ He forced his eyes open and looked at Spot. He didn't smile. He didn't wave. He didn't say hi. He just stared at Spot, unable to comprehend doing any more. He didn't know what was wrong.

"Fuck, Race, are you okay?" Spot hurried over to Race. Race still didn't move.

"Yeah." A lie.

Spot sat next to him and took his hand. He squeezed it gently. Race didn't squeeze back. Spot took Race by the chin and gently pulled him so they were facing each other. Race was looking right at Spot, but his eyes were distant.

"Are you sick?" Spot asked gently, feeling Race's forehead for any signs of a fever.

"No." Technically not a lie. Sure, he was nauseous and lightheaded and couldn't stop shaking, but that was probably not because of a physical illness.

"Okay, you're not sick. What's wrong?"

_ I don't know. _ Race didn't answer. He didn't want to open his mouth anymore. He put his head on Spot's shoulder. He was warm. Race still didn't feel anything.

"Tony," Spot whispered, holding Race with one arm and stroking his hair with the other. "What's up?"

"I don't know what's wrong," Race mumbled into Spot's shirt.

"That's okay. You don't have to. Are you feeling physically okay or is this a mental only thing?"

"I feel... how I did during finals week. If that makes sense."

Finals week. Race had been nauseous for ten days in a row. That, in addition to dizziness, shaking, a racing heart, headaches, and anxiety that just got worse as the week progressed. It had been awful. He'd almost passed out or thrown up during almost every final. Once school had ended, the feeling had gone away. He'd chalked it up to stress and assumed it would be done.

Apparently not. One day of summer school and he was already back to it.

"I'm sorry, that must be awful." Spot pressed a kiss to the top of Race's head.

"I also can't feel anything. It's like my emotions don't exist anymore. I don't know what's wrong."

"Do you wanna talk about it? Do you want me to go? If this is too much I can leave. I want you to be comfortable."

"Don't go."

Spot pulled Race closer to him. "I won't go anywhere. I'm here for you, whatever you need."

"Thank you."

Race didn't know what was wrong. But that was okay.

He moved his arms to hug Spot back. He wanted to cry, but emotions were a long ways off. He whispered, "I just wish I could  _ feel _ something. I don't know what to do."

"Can I kiss you?" Spot asked. "That might help, I don't know."

Race thought about kissing Spot. It didn't seem like a bad idea, so he nodded and took his head off of Spot's shoulder.

Spot leaned in and kissed Race. It was slow and gentle and his lips were soft. They didn't normally do gentle. Their kisses were usually rough and needy and harsh and passionate. This was completely different. Race found himself kissing back, arms tightening around Spot's back and legs wrapping around Spot's waist. Spot smiled against Race's mouth, glad Race was finally responding normally.

The kiss stayed soft. Spot was careful not to overwhelm Race, and Race loved how gentle he was being. He didn't know Spot was capable of being this gentle and affectionate.

Spot broke off the kiss and looked at Race. "Did that help?" he asked, worried.

Race rested their foreheads together. "Yeah. That actually helped a lot. Thank you."

Spot smiled and pressed his lips to Race's once more. "That's good. I'm really glad. Anything else I can do?"

Race unhooked his legs and turned around so he was sitting in Spot's lap and leaning his back against Spot's warm chest. Spot put his arms around Race's waist and held him close.

"Tell me a story. Something that'll make me laugh."

Spot immediately launched into a story. "Actually, I came here in the first place cause Jack was doing some fuckin' stupid shit at home and trying to get me to join him. You'll never guess what he was doing. Go on, guess!"

Race took a wild guess, and giggled when Spot gasped and said, "Racey, not even my brother is dumb enough to do that. Medda would kill him. She'd kill me for letting him do it!"

Race finally felt something, he realized as he smiled and kissed Spot on the cheek. He felt love.

**Author's Note:**

> -I had like 10 other things I should have been doing but I was on the couch and I couldn't move so I wrote this instead  
> -that shit about finals week? yeah that sucked I was Suffering the whole time but I guess it's just because of school because it happened again today (over a week later) so it's my life now yay  
> -this is all wholly me projecting my actions onto Race until Spot shows up cause sadly I don't have a Spot of my own so when Spot shows up is when I started writing this if I'm Race (that was confusing oops whatever)  
> -I love writing Race and Romeo as brothers?? And Spot and Jack as foster brothers???? It's wholesome and I'm including it in every modern fic I write  
> -please give me comments/feedback! comments literally make my day! (or just a kudo those are also greatly apprectated!) ((or both if you love me))


End file.
